


On Holiday

by remedialpotions



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Consensual Sex, Established Relationship, F/M, PWP, Shower Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2018-12-05
Packaged: 2019-09-06 21:49:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16841074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/remedialpotions/pseuds/remedialpotions
Summary: Ron and Hermione find time to reconnect on a tropical getaway. Rated for language and sexual content.





	On Holiday

**Author's Note:**

> So, I wrote this a long time ago, deemed it too over the top to ever see the light of day, and thought I’d just let it languish in my google docs forever. But then I recently read it over again, and decided maybe it’s fit for public consumption after all. It has almost zero plot and lots of smut and I use some words I typically don’t use. Enjoy!

Drs. Simon and Mary Granger had won the trip at a charity auction, and then turned around and gifted it directly to their only daughter and her longtime boyfriend. Over dinner at their London home one spring evening, they nonchalantly slid a pair of plane tickets and a brochure detailing a luxurious island resort across the kitchen table and then watched, satisfied, as Hermione and Ron gawked at each other, then the brochure, then each other again.

“I don’t want to hear any arguments,” said Mary firmly when Ron opened his mouth. “The pair of you have never been on a proper holiday together - I’m not counting that little rescue mission to Australia - and I know how hard you both work.”

“But it’s  _ so  _ much money-” Ron blurted out, only to be met with the sight of his girlfriend’s mum shaking her head at him again.

“We got an excellent deal,” she assured him. 

They hadn’t, actually. They’d been caught in a bidding war with another couple, and had ended up paying well above value, But it was worth it, they felt, when they considered the dark circles around their daughter’s eyes and the exhaustion in the face of the young man they hoped would someday be their son-in-law. Hermione and Ron had been living like adults for so long, but they were still so young with so much of their lives ahead of them, and they deserved to live them to the fullest.

“It’ll just go to waste if you don’t take it,” added Simon pointedly. “So you’d best start looking at your calendar.”

Which was how, a month later, they found themselves squinting in the sunlight as a golf cart carried them swiftly through the resort to their accommodations. Ron had only been mildly traumatized by his first experience on a Muggle airplane, and now, as he drank in the sight of the ocean glittering nearby, one would never have known that his knuckles had been white for half the flight. “If planes never crash,” he had muttered to Hermione as the plane had taxied down the runway, “then why did they just spend ten minutes telling us what to do if it does?” Hermione, expecting this sort of commentary, had shaken her head in exasperation and handed him a SkyMall magazine.

Fortunately, it had been remarkably easy to secure time away from work. Ron’s squad on the Aurors had just completed a huge investigation, so the department had been more than willing to let him take time off, and Hermione had accrued enough overtime over the years to earn herself an entire month’s holiday. She had to admit that she could already feel the tension escaping her muscles as the fresh sea air filled her lungs and she pictured herself waking up without the aid of an alarm clock for the first time in months.

“I just realized the fatal flaw in this plan,” Ron whispered to Hermione as the golf cart whipped around a corner. She turned to face him, alarmed, only to see that he was suppressing a smile. “Gingers and the beach,” he said. “We don’t mix.”

“I brought sun potion,” she said back, quietly enough that the concierge currently driving them up to a villa couldn’t hear. “And I very much look forward to helping you put it on.”

His face lit up like Christmas had come early just as the golf cart jolted abruptly to a stop. They climbed a circular staircase up to their room, and after accepting their luggage back from the concierge, they unlocked the door and stepped inside.

“Fuck,” said Ron vehemently. “This place is bigger than our flat.”

Indeed, it was. Hermione’s parents, evidently, had failed to mention that they had been booked in one of the most opulent suites at the resort, which included its own kitchen, a separate bedroom, and a balcony with a private swimming pool. For a few minutes they stood, stunned by the extravagance, before their unending curiosity got the better of them and they felt compelled to explore every square inch of the suite.

“Hermione!” Ron called excitedly from the bathroom. “Hermione, you  _ have  _ to come see this!”

Startled from her perusal of the room-service menu, she followed the sound of his voice, finally finding him inside a circular shower with a mosaic tile floor and absolutely no ceiling: it opened right on up to the blazing blue sky.

“There’s a regular shower too,” he said seriously, “so it’s like they put this one in just for shagging.”

Hermione laughed, but couldn’t exactly disagree. “Getting ideas?”

“Obviously,” he grinned, beckoning her toward him with a casual hand. She stepped into the stall to stand in front of him and rose up on her toes to kiss him. As their lips met, she grasped either side of his waist in her hands, tugging on him so that his torso came to rest against hers - and that was when his stomach growled. “Later,” he chuckled, kissing her forehead. “First, lunch.”

When Hermione looked back on that first day of their holiday, it was little more than a hazy blur in her memory, punctuated by brightly-colored drinks decorated with tiny paper umbrellas and laughing so hard with Ron that her stomach ached. Their careers and schedules being what they were, it had been hard to find large blocks of time to spend alone together. She hadn’t realized just how much they had needed to reconnect with each other, away from the grind of everyday life, until they found themselves on a quiet stretch of beach shortly after dinner. Ron had insisted on going for a walk - “it’s romantic!” he had claimed, only half-joking - despite the fact that they were still in their swimwear, though Hermione had found the presence of mind to toss a thin linen dress over her suit and Ron had tossed on an old t-shirt. The sun had just dipped below the horizon, leaving them awash in dusty blue light.

“Okay, so I was kind of wrong,” said Ron when they’d found a small patch of dry sand upon which to sit. “About gingers and the beach. I haven’t gotten too burned yet, have I?”

He held out his arms for her to inspect - and while they were a bit pink from the heat and sun exposure, he was in much better condition than expected. 

“No, you look good.”

“Not that I’d even care,” he mused. “I’m honestly - I’m just really glad we’re here. Your parents were right, we needed this.” 

“We really did,” she agreed wholeheartedly. 

She leaned over to kiss him, intent on something quick, almost chaste, but the second their lips touched she was reminded of the full measure of her affection for him, and one kiss turned into two, which turned into a full-out snog, and before she knew it, she had pulled him on top of her, lying on her back in the sand with a knee bent up by his hip. The bottle of red wine they’d split during dinner was still dominating her bloodstream, and through the giddy, reckless fog in her head, she could think only of him.

“Think anyone’ll come out here?” Ron gasped, his parted lips dragging from her mouth to her jaw, tongue warm and wet on her skin. His hips had settled squarely on hers, and she could feel him, already hard beneath the fabric of his shorts, pressing between her legs. 

“I - I don’t know,” she stuttered back, forcing her eyes open to take in their surroundings but then immediately closing them again, too consumed by her desire for him to concentrate on much else. 

They were alone - at least for the time being - and all they really needed to do was shift her swimsuit out of the way and he could be inside her, thick and solid, filling her completely. She rubbed her hips shamelessly against his, trying to satiate the building ache at her center, and slipped a hand under his shirt to feel the warm muscles of his back. Ron’s lips had found hers again, his tongue in her mouth, as he ground against her, and  _ why, _ exactly, did they have so much on? She moved her hand further up his back to inch his shirt up, grains of sand scraping below her fingertips.

“Maybe,” she panted around a heated kiss, “maybe we should… mmm... should go back to our room - the sand-”

“What about it?”

“It might - oh  _ God _ -” His hand had found her breast through her dress- “get in places it shouldn’t-”

“Oh.” Ron ceased his movements. “Er - okay - give me a second, though.” He let his face fall into the curve of her neck, his breath still warm. 

When he had determined that he had sufficiently cooled off, so to speak, they hurried back to the villa, nearly tripping up the stairs in their haste to be inside. A sharp blast of chilled air hit their skin as they stepped inside, and Hermione wasted no time pulling Ron toward her for another kiss. Leaning back against the door, she wound her arms around his neck. He had hardened against her again, now digging into her hip, as he ran his hands down her sides, bunching up her dress in his hands. In another instant, it was gone, leaving her in just her swimsuit. Hermione worked his shirt up over his head, shamelessly allowing herself to smooth her hands down the lean ridges of his muscles, and then took his hand, leading him toward the bedroom.

“Hang on,” he muttered, changing course and tugging her toward the bathroom. “I’ve got an idea.”

She had forgotten all about it, but clearly he hadn’t, because he led her to the outdoor shower they had discovered that morning and closed them inside. Above them, the sky glittered with stars.

“You’re not serious?” she asked, all the while knowing that he was. 

“We’re covered in sand,” he said with a cheeky smile. “I reckon we should probably at least rinse off.”

He turned the knob to start a flow of warm water from the shower head above them and then wrapped an arm around the small of her back, pulling her against him and kissing her again. Water soaked into her hair and streamed down her face as he caught her lower lip between his teeth and tugged, eliciting a quiet moan from her throat. 

“Okay,” she sighed as he started to kiss slowly down her neck, “I take it back. This is a good idea.”

“Thought so.” 

His mouth traveled down the curve of her shoulder, sucking lightly on her skin, as one hand moved up her back. The pads of his fingers brushed over the nape of her neck as he pulled loose the knot holding her suit up and moved the material down to uncover her breasts. His hair, now drenched, had gone a gorgeous auburn shade, and she raked her fingers through it as he ducked his head and took her nipple into his mouth. She leaned back against the curved stone wall as his tongue swirled around her, his hand caressing her other breast, playfully pinching her nipple to make her arch her back. 

“Need you out of this,” he said, drawing her suit further down her torso, only to find it stuck at the curve of her hips. 

Hermione’s hands shook - not from nerves, she knew, but from anticipation - as she wiggled, only a bit awkwardly, out of the suit and left it carelessly on the floor. Ron’s blue eyes had gone dark and heavy-lidded with lust, and he lavished more kisses on her breasts before kneeling and kissing down her ribcage and her stomach. Out of instinct, Hermione widened her legs. Ron gripped her thigh in one large hand and brought the other up to her center, pressing his palm flat against her.

“Is this what you want?” he asked, voice low and hoarse, sliding a finger into her.

“M-more,” she moaned, sinking down the wall a bit as he added another finger and kissed her stomach again, then moved to her hip bones, nibbling on the skin. 

Only half of her body was under the spray of warm water, leaving the other half erupting in goosebumps. She rocked her hips against his hand, breathing hard, as he dropped a kiss in the crease where her hip met her thigh. He was driving her wild on purpose, she knew, taking his time, licking the water away from her skin as he made his way slowly to the heat between her thighs… and then removing his hand altogether.

“Ron,” she groaned in frustration, angling her hips toward him in the split second before his tongue met her folds. He was still prolonging it, teasing her, just lightly kissing her, and she thought she might pass out from the intensity of her need. Not ten minutes ago, he had been seconds away from shagging her on a public beach, and now he was brushing his lips over the inside of her thighs like they were only just getting started. “Ron, p- _ please _ -”

At her words, his tongue plunged inside of her, now hungrily, finally allowing himself to taste her. Hermione braced her hands on his shoulders for balance as he worked his mouth over her sensitive skin. Her hands roamed up to grasp fistfuls of his hair and she tipped her head back as he finally,  _ finally,  _ touched his tongue to her clit. Gently, he circled it with her tongue and then closed his lips around it as her legs trembled from the pleasure now coursing violently through her. 

“Oh  _ God _ ,” she whimpered, “please, please don’t stop…” 

His tongue worked furiously now, and he drove two fingers inside her again, stroking at her as she ground herself against him, her mind going blank, her voice growing louder, more desperate, more demanding. While one hand pumped into her, Ron used his other to glide up her stomach and cup over her breasts, fingertips working at her nipple until she came undone, her heart hammering wildly behind her ribs, her whole body shuddering at the release. 

Now, she welcomed the soft kisses to her skin, the ones that soothed her down from the high, the ones that were so full of love and affection for her that she felt she might melt right into the floor. Ron stood and gathered her into his arms, touching his lips to her shoulders and her neck, guiding her back under the stream of water. 

“I love you,” he said quietly into her neck, hands drifting down her back. 

“Hmmm,” Hermione sighed contentedly. “I love you too, so much.”

He was still at attention, digging into her, solid, resolute, and as she felt her own faculties returning, she reached for the waistband of his shorts and pushed them down. Tipping her face up to kiss him, she wrapped her hand around his length and rubbed the velvety skin; their tongues tangled together, evoking a groan of appreciation. One step was all it took to back her against the wall again, and he gave her arse a little squeeze before sliding his hand down the back of her thigh. Widening his stance to accommodate the difference, he hitched her knee up on his hip and her pulse quickened again. He kissed her, deeply, his tip just barely between her folds, but just as she put a hand between them to guide him inside, she paused.

“Wait a second.”

“You all right?”

“Yes,” she assured him with a smile, “brilliant.”

She kissed him once more and then focused her attention down his chest, flicking her tongue over his nipples and then moving to his abdomen. How someone could be so covered in freckles, she’d never understand, but she tried to kiss as many as possible as she dropped to her knees before him. Carefully, she ran one delicate finger up the underside of his cock.

“Fuck,” he mumbled. “Hermione…”

“Yes?” she asked innocently, still only running the very tips of her fingers along him.

“Fuck,” was all he could say again, his head dropping back as she wrapped her hand around his shaft.

She kept her movements slow and steady, hoping to stretch out the moment for him, hoping to give him the same delectable teasing that he had given her, but the truth was that she wanted to make him lose control. She wanted to know that he was entirely lost to her, and so she brought her lips to his tip. Another expletive sounded from above her as she took him further into her mouth, massaging him with her tongue. Curling her fingers tightly around his base, where her mouth could not reach, she pumped up and down, humming in satisfaction as his fingers dove into her hair. She used her other hand to cup under him as his breaths grew ragged and shallow, and his hips automatically rutted toward her.

“Er-my-nee,” he grunted, “fuck, I’m - I’m gonna - fuck-”

Exactly two pulses of her hand later, he spilled into her mouth, and she gently released him, swallowing as she stood up. Ron’s skin had flushed in patches of red, and he gave her a soft smile before enveloping her in his arms once again.

“Well,” he laughed, “I think the sand’s all rinsed off by now.”

They turned off the shower and helped themselves to fluffy white towels from a nearby shelf, and then headed back into the suite. Their suitcases, still packed, were in the bedroom, so they headed there in search of sleepwear. 

Hermione was just using the corner of her towel, which was still partially wrapped around her body, to squeeze the excess water out of her hair, when Ron stepped up behind her and dropped a kiss on the back of her neck. 

“Hi,” he greeted her cheerfully as she turned around to face him. “Y’know, I’m not quite sure I was actually done with you.”

“Is that so?”

He did look exceptionally appealing, standing there with a towel wrapped loosely around his hips, his chest still gleaming with moisture from the shower and a crooked smile on his face, so she stepped close to him.

“Mmhmm,” he agreed seriously, though he was snaking a hand inside her towel. “We never quite made it to the actual shagging portion of the evening-”

“You didn’t like the rest of it?” she teased him.

“No, no,” he was quick to say, “ _ believe  _ me, I did, but - I mean, look at you, you’re irresistible-”

“Oh, stop-”

He kissed her then, and as she reached up to thread her fingers through his half-dry hair, her towel dropped to the floor, and his joined it a second later. She would have thought, given their escapade in the shower, that their earlier need had been sated, but then, three years together should have shown her that they could never truly get enough of each other. Ron’s hands were everywhere, roving over her back and down to her arse, then around her waist and up to her breasts as their kisses grew in intensity. He walked her over to the bed, her knees hitting the edge of it, when she suddenly froze.

“One second,” she said urgently, grabbing the topmost blankets on the bed and yanking them completely off the mattress. Below lay pristine white sheets, and she nodded in approval. “Most places don’t wash those,” she explained to Ron, gesturing toward the piled-up comforter on the floor. “I saw a special on the news once, you wouldn’t believe-”

Ron couldn’t help but laugh. “As much as this is getting me in the mood…”

“Shut  _ up _ -”

“Will do,” he muttered, moving to kiss her again as they collapsed onto the sheets, sideways on the bed, his ankles hanging off as he covered her body with his. It was, Hermione privately agreed, the most effective method of keeping her quiet.

For the moment, at least.

They became a tangle of limbs, scorching skin sticking together, rapid breaths mingling, as they righted themselves on the mattress, hips now aligned. Hermione felt her nipples, now taut with arousal, brush against his chest, and felt an irresistible demand rush over her as she slid her legs apart. With his lips locked onto her neck, he pushed inside in one fluid movement and instantly set an enthusiastic pace, the force of his thrusts making the bed shake. Hermione placed her hands on his arse, digging her fingers into his flesh, pushing him deeper inside with every stroke. Through the whirlwind of lust and longing clouding her brain, the one coherent thought broke through that she was glad they had waited until they were alone, that they hadn’t indulged in a hurried, clandestine shag on the beach. She wanted to savour it, bask in it, enjoy it, rather than rush through as a means to an end. 

Propped up on one forearm, Ron used his free hand to skim down her side, edging his thumb down to where their bodies had joined. He pressed lightly against her swollen nub, making her sigh out his name.

”It’s good?” he asked, and she could only let out another shaky moan as he rubbed more firmly. “I didn’t get to watch you last time.”

His voice, low and desirous in her ear, and the feel of him inside her and on top of her, practically surrounding her, it was more than she had ever been equipped to handle, she felt herself writhing against the sheets as the sensations raced over her. Her nails marked his flesh as she seized around him, her voice unintelligible, her body coated in a light sheen of sweat.

Ron, though still hard, pulled out, though she whimpered in protest, and began to place feather-light kisses over her breasts.

“Why did you-“

“We’re not done,” he assured her, voice brimming with tenderness, kissing her nipple. “Can you turn over?”

She did as asked, rolling onto her stomach and finding that he simply kept kissing her, lips grazing over her shoulder blades and spine. Her entire body felt like jelly and yet somehow she still wanted more of him. His weight settled onto her again, chest pressed against her back, and she raised her hips up from the bed so that he could enter her again. As they began to undulate together, languorously this time, Ron pressed a kiss to her cheek and she turned her head so their lips could meet. God, she loved him, loved these occasions with him when they may as well have been the only two people on the planet. There was a reason she could never get enough of this: she was constantly striving to be closer to him.

Ron was losing his composure now, his groans filling her ear, his lips landing erratically on her neck and earlobe. She turned to kiss him again, moaning into his mouth, as he picked up speed. He was so close now, she could feel him stretching her, and then suddenly his fist clenched around the pillow under her head and he stilled, panting heavily, pinning her to the bed. 

When he withdrew, she turned onto her back again, finding his fingers linking with hers in the gap between them. He was sweating, and his chest still heaved as he caught his breath, and his face was maroon, but he looked as happy as she had ever seen him.

“I love you,” he said again, bringing their joined hands to his mouth so he could kiss the inside of her wrist. “And we’re never waiting this long to go on holiday again.”


End file.
